


Night Shift

by riyku



Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-09
Updated: 2013-08-09
Packaged: 2017-12-22 21:19:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/918129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riyku/pseuds/riyku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared is a hooker, Jensen is an undercover cop on a sting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Shift

**Author's Note:**

  * For [juice817](https://archiveofourown.org/users/juice817/gifts).



> Originally posted [here at the kinky fanworks comment meme](http://riyku.livejournal.com/44384.html?thread=1518688#t1518688). Many thanks to juice817 for the prompt.

The motel is run down, the kinda place that charges either by the hour or by the week. A neon vacancy sign flickers blue in the office window, throwing everything and everyone into pale monochrome.

Jensen pulls into a spot in the quicky mart across the street from the joint, cuts the headlights of the dusty, nondescript Toyota he’d pinched from the department’s motor pool. The tape that holds his wire in place pulls at his skin, and he scratches at it, jittery, a bad taste in his mouth from too much coffee and too little sleep.

Three years working vice, and they stick him with this. Just last month, Jensen had been in on the biggest drug bust the city had seen in years. The DEA had taken the credit, but then again they always did. Before that, he’d wormed his way into a hefty gambling ring, managed to bag a slippery kingpin that had eluded the force since before he was a rookie. And now they have him tailing two-bit hookers working the parking lot of a broken down hotel. It’s a slap in the face, a waste of resources, time, and above all _potential_. It’s pretty much the definition of a victimless crime, and it’s probably fair to say that Jensen’s been working this sting with some consistently high levels of pissed off.

Across the street, a car slides up to the curb and a tall figure gets out, slams the door and taps the roof a couple of times in farewell. Jensen’s breath quickens and he slides a fraction lower in his seat, an amped up feeling building in his chest as he digs his fingers into his thighs.

This guy’s the reason Jensen keeps coming back to this spot. He’s also the reason Jensen’s arrest record has tanked in the last week. He’s taken up permanent residence in Jensen’s head for days now, keeps floating to the forefront of his thoughts each morning when Jensen lands face first into bed, and he’s still right there a few hours later when Jensen drags himself out of it.

Jensen likes the shift of the guy’s hips every time he walks up to another car, likes the curve of his ass and the size of his hands. He likes the shape of his smile, even though he knows it’s fake.

A woman calls for the guy from the opposite end of the block, and now Jensen finally has a name for him: _Jared_. Jared saunters over to her, hunches forward so she can whisper in his ear. She keeps cutting these quick little looks in the direction of Jensen’s car, and after a few seconds, Jared squeezes her shoulder and starts across the street.

It’s obvious that Jensen’s been made, crystal clear, going by Jared’s determined march toward his car. For a brief moment, Jensen’s fingers hover near the ignition, shaking a little, and then he’s reaching under his shirt and ripping off the wire--tape and all--and tossing it to the floor, the tiny transmission box a plastic crunch beneath the heel of his shoe. Jensen’s not thinking about why he’s doing it. He’s hardly thinking about anything beyond the anticipation of finally getting close enough to find out the color of Jared’s eyes.

They’re hazel. Flecks of blue in them.

Jared rests his forearm against the roof of Jensen’s car and peers at him. His tight leather pants hardly make it all the way up to his hipbones, and his snug t-shirt doesn’t cover up his chest so much as point it out. He’s gorgeous, should be on the cover of a goddamn magazine.

Jensen licks his lips, waits for Jared to speak.

“I’ve seen you around,” Jared says, squinting and tilting his head to get a better view. “You’re making the ladies nervous.” His voice is carefully flat, borderline menacing. “Pay up or go home. Jerk off in front of your computer like any other self-respecting creep.”

Some reckless thing invades Jensen’s chest, takes over his tongue and hijacks his better judgement. “How much?”

Jared considers him for a beat. “Two hundred.”

“For what?” Jensen asks.

Jared takes on a lower tone, deep and rough. “For whatever you want, sweetheart.”

The way Jensen’s pulse is banging in his throat and the tremor in his hands as he passes the money through the window are just two more things Jensen’s not gonna let himself think about.

Jared leads him across the street, toward a room situated at the end of the long row. He keeps one arm slung loosely around Jensen’s shoulders, whispering all the things he wants to do to Jensen in a soft purr right into his ear, his hips moving in an exaggerated swish as he walks.

“Drop the act,” Jensen says, ignoring the sharp stares of the others working the block. It doesn’t matter. Two days from now, this place is going to get swarmed by cops. After that, the sidewalk here is gonna look a lot different.

“Fine,” Jared says. He lets his arm fall, but his hand brushes the small of Jensen’s back, trails down to the top of his ass in a way that has to be intentional.

Jared unlocks the door to a room that smells like old sweat and stale cigarettes, the only light creeping out from around the cracked bathroom door. He starts emptying his pockets.

“Stop,” Jensen says, eyeing the tube of lube and condom Jared has casually tossed on the bed. “I wanna help you.” He’s thinking about the bust, about how what he says next might drown his career. He’s also thinking about sinking to his knees in front of Jared, burying his face in Jared’s crotch and never ever coming up for air.

Jared interrupts him with a bark of laughter. “So you’re one of _those_.” He pulls his shirt over his head and lets it fall to the floor, and Jensen gets stuck on the smooth curve of his stomach, the ripple of muscle beneath his skin, the dark, skinny line of hair that goes from his belly button to the waistband of his pants. It takes Jensen a few seconds to make it back up to Jared’s eyes, and when he does, there’s a light in them, a small wicked spark.

Not missing a beat, Jared unhooks the first button of his pants. “I like to fuck. I like _getting_ fucked. Did you ever stop to think about that?”

Jensen ticks his jaw to the side. In a perfect world, Jensen would stop right here, cut his losses and walk out of the door. In a perfect world, Jared would be face down on the ground with his hands cuffed behind his back. Scratch that. In a perfect world, Jared would be face down on the bed with his ass in the air and his knees spread wide.

Two long strides close the distance between them. Jensen palms Jared’s ass, fingers skidding along the leather as he squeezes, then shoves at Jared’s pants to get at his cock. It matches the rest of him, long and already half hard, twitches against Jensen’s hand when he strokes Jared from root to tip.

“‘Atta boy.” Jared lets out a breathy chuckle, grabs the front of Jensen’s jacket to pull him in even closer. “Fuck, you’re so hot.”

“Bet you say that to everybody,” Jensen shoots back.

“Yeah, maybe,” Jared says, pushing Jensen’s jacket off and yanking at his shirt. “But at least with you I don’t have to lie.” He starts to draw Jensen toward the bed. He’s tall, big all over and might be able to overpower Jensen and hardly break a sweat. Jensen has a decade on the force, however, is very well trained and has some definite ideas of how he wants this to go.

He takes Jared by his forearm and spins him around, pinning Jared’s arm behind his back and making Jared’s spine bend in a beautiful arch. Jensen sets his lips on Jared’s shoulder and flattens his tongue against it, tastes sweat and skin in equal measure. He’s expecting Jared to fight, but instead Jared goes very still, only shivers a tiny amount as Jensen scrapes his teeth along his skin.

“Alright,” Jared says. “Now you just got _really_ fucking hot. What do you wanna do? Cuff me? I might let you.”

Jensen grunts and strengthens his grip on Jared’s arm. He’s hard in an instant, reeling from it, and stabs his hips forward, rubbing along the tight swell of Jared’s ass.  
“Works better if you take your pants off first,” Jared teases mildly.

It’s a close thing, but Jensen doesn’t take the bait. With a thigh slotted between Jared’s legs, he urges him forward onto the bed, Jared’s face pressed against the sagging mattress. Jensen’s never been so turned on in his life, adrenaline and anticipation a heady rush in his system, his cock a steady, needy throb. His mouth has gone dry and his vision has taken on a startling sort of clarity, fuzzy around the edges but zeroed in on Jared, the wide plane of his shoulders and the slight sheen of sweat gathered in the dip at the small of his back.

Jensen runs a thumb along the crease of Jared’s ass as he loosens his belt with the other hand and pushes his pants down to his thighs. No surprise that Jared’s already slick, his skin shiny with lube where his thighs meet his ass. Jensen circles Jared’s rim and sinks his thumb entirely inside of Jared, biting his bottom lip to stifle a groan.

“Hold yourself open,” Jensen commands. “I wanna--I wanna see.”

Jared’s right there, spreading the cheeks of his ass wide without a hint of hesitation. Jensen works one finger in and then two, twisting his wrist and watching as Jared’s rim stretches around him, the skin swelling and turning obscenely dark.

“Fuck,” Jared moans, muffled against the mattress. “Just fucking give it to me. I want it.”

“I thought I told you to drop the act,” Jensen says. One more twist of his wrist and he pulls his fingers out anyway, wipes them on the edge of the bed and reaches for the condom.

“It’s not an act,” Jared says with a backward glance, and Jensen thinks he might almost be telling the truth. Jared’s cock hangs heavily between his widespread thighs, and Jared’s tugging at it slowly, milking out a thin stream of precome that drips down onto the mattress. Jensen wants to taste it, knows very well that it would be the mother of all bad ideas, even for a night that has been lousy with them.

Jensen rips the condom open with his teeth, rolls it on and slides his cock along the crease of Jared’s ass to slick himself up, breathes out slow and concentrates on not shooting at the first touch of his cock against Jared’s body. Jensen wraps his fingers around himself and taps his cock against Jared’s rim, shivering at the sound of Jared’s low groan as he pushes inside.

It’s wet, really fucking wet and _hot,_ the clinging heat of Jared’s ass so cloying and drawing Jensen in all the way to the base. Jensen’s whole body is pulled tight, feels like a coiled spring that’s about to let go. He grasps Jared’s waist, fingers digging in deep, levers his hips back. Forcing himself to take it slow, Jensen watches Jared’s rim stretch around the width of his cock, then slams straight back in again with a thrust hard enough to send Jared skating forward on the bed.

Jared makes a noise like all of the air has been sucked out of his lungs, and Jensen can relate, all wrapped up in the slide in and out of Jared’s body. He’s taken down by it, and for an instant, Jensen wishes they were reversed, wants to know the sensation of Jared’s weight all over him, pressing him down into the mattress and splitting him wide open.

Jensen’s sweating freely now, streaks of it running down his temples and tickling his back, and he’s only dimly aware that his pants are now a puddle at his feet. His hands scrabble for purchase, find the crook of Jared’s neck and grip him tight. Long, fast jabs shove Jared further and further up the bed until Jensen’s up there with him, his hips flush against Jared’s ass.

The sight of Jared is what does Jensen in, the shift of his muscles as he works himself up and down on Jensen’s cock, the long line of his neck when he bows his head, the way he clasps his hands together on the pillow as if he’s about to say his good night prayers. Jensen topples forward, covers Jared’s back with his chest, skin on slippery skin. Legs splayed out, Jared loses ground beneath him, rutting against the bed as he struggles to keep bucking up into every punch of Jensen’s hips.

Beneath him, Jared’s eyes flutter closed and he starts to shudder. The sharp smell of spunk fills Jensen’s nose, sends a shockwave straight to his cock, makes his balls pull up tight to his body and spurs him on. His rhythm begins to falter into short, shaky bursts and he moans into the back of Jared’s neck. He buries himself inside of Jared as far as he can go and comes, hot, sticky pulses filling the condom.

Wrung out and wrecked, Jensen lets Jared take the brunt of his weight for almost a full minute, then pulls out carefully and flops onto his back. He opens his mouth, trying to find something to say, but then Jared leans into him and does the strangest little thing. He swipes his thumb along Jensen’s hairline, comes in even closer and kisses him on the cheek. It’s completely unexpected. Curiously sweet.

After one large exhale, Jared rolls off of the bed and onto his feet, snatches his shirt and pants up from the floor. Jensen stares at him unabashedly, knowing full well that he’ll never see Jared again. After his shift is over, Jensen will report to the station, make up some bullshit story about what happened to the wire, and then request a different assignment. His name’s clean, his arrest record stellar. They’ll have no reason to question him.

Jared’s pulling his pants up to his hips, does this little bounce to get them in exactly the right spot, and in that moment he suddenly becomes fully human to Jensen. Human for the very first time. The thought bowls Jensen over. Jared’s got a mother and father, and a favorite song. He’s got a home he goes to once the night is through, and a way he likes his coffee. He’s been in love, and maybe he’s had his heart broken and maybe he hasn’t. He has a heart, and a smile that’s genuine, the one that hides underneath the other one. _He has a heart._

“Listen, tomorrow--” Jensen starts, but pulls up short when Jared picks his jacket up from the carpet and roots around in the inside pocket. Jensen hardly has time to sit up before Jared is throwing Jensen’s ID and badge at him, hitting him square in the chest with it.

Jared flashes him a grin, says over his shoulder as he closes the door behind himself, “Good luck catching the bad guys.”

 

\--fin  



End file.
